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The Corn Chip of the Gods. I've drawn out the route (sans a little bit of off-road action which I'll get to another day). Does it work?
https://www.strava.com/routes/8040993
Haven't been to Gardners Bay but it's not far from Hobart and would be a good starting point for a tour. If I had the time I'd have done the west coast too for sure.
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Day 5
I woke up to some tempestuous skies with suitably fruity winds and a weather radar that was threatening some sensual wet t-shirt action in the form of clouds blowing in from the Northwest (and no I don't mean Kanye's child). Packed up the tent which was taking me less and less time, then headed back through St. Helens for the last time to say bye to the surly bike shop man. He waffled on some more about mountain biking in the 90's in Tasmania which was, truth be told, very interesting. He knew I was heading for Derby (pronounced Durbie for some fucking idiot reason), and mentioned it would indeed be pissing it down in the hills thataways. So be it, I had a Rapha Hard Shell with me and the worst that could happen is that I could end up sweating my tits off within it.
About five kilometres along into the hills it started lashing down, and the road turned to a river with raindrops bouncing off it.
Made good time despite the whole body wetness, and passed through some really pretty bush and tiny towns with raging rivers. I knew I'd be popping out into some flat lands for a little while before a climb, and that's when the weather got really shit. With no hills or trees to buffer the wind I got side-blasted passing through the low plains and stopped at a roadhouse for some chocolate milk, greeted by this fella.
If I'm honest he was a bit agro, so I explained that I didn't want no trouble mister and got back on my sodden bike to head for the day's nasty climb.
There she blows!
As I started to climb there were about 15 turkeys stood by the side of the road watching me like I was an idiot, and I was too embarrassed to photograph them. The further I climbed the more sweaty I got within the hard-shell so I took it off. Cars started passing me with a bemused look on the driver's face, presumably because it was raining sideways and I was climbing a mountain in a short sleeve jersey.
The look of a man who did not pack a rain gilet. Moodier Than The Elements.
The higher I got the more wild the weather went. After about half an hour of climbing I popped out on some moorland which reminded me of the Pennines, all bleak as fuck and cloud blowing in to obscure the road. Back on with the jacket, a fumble by the side of the road to try and get my lights into a position that cars coming from behind would actually see. Failing that I put the bike in a harder gear and yomped the rest of the mountain with almost no visibility, a 50kmph side wind and wet to the core.
Fortunately the treeline started again after a few kilometres and followed by a really nice (cold) descent into a beautiful forest, tits well and truly shivered off. Happily I knew what awaited me not far from the foot of the descent in a little town called Weldborough. A few people along the way had recommended a great pub there, and wild horses would not have stopped me getting myself in there and inserting a juicy beer and a delicious steak sanger.
Must've looked like death shaking through my lunch and guzzling beers, and an older lady and her dad got talking to me. They were staying in Derby where I'd planned to sleep the night and very kindly offered to drive me there or to have a shower as the wild camping there didn't have facilities. I turned down the lift because I knew how nice the onward route would be and the weather was starting to clear up, and thought long and hard about whether they planned to murder me as I took a nice long shower in their AirBnB.
Another 30kms down another amazing forest descent as the wind knocked me around (and blew the clouds away), and I was rolling down into Durrrbeh.
Derby is a really strange place, which basically died on its arse in the early 80's when the town's mining ran dry, leaving behind a ghost town, briefly re-inhabited by a community of lesbians (gleaned from a grizzled local with whom I had a lengthy chat), and then turned slowly back to Tumbleweedsville. But much to the surprise of the people living there, it's going through a new boom thanks to mountain biking. Someone realised that the mixture of incredible carved granite landscape, prehistoric forestation and superdirt would make a perfect basis for trails. Needless to say, the town's infrastructure hasn't had much time to catch up, and it retains a really characterful frontier-esque feel to it. Oh and no shops to resupply, undrinkable tap water and no mobile signal.
I strongly recommend having a look at Flow MTB's coverage of the place as it's a bit more, ahem, professional than my shaking-from-the-bike photography.
http://flowmountainbike.com/features/blue-derby-stage-3/
http://flowmountainbike.com/features/pinching-yourself-the-canyon-dream-weekender-derby/
I'd planned to just pass through and maybe go on a few of the trails closer to the town, but the possibility of renting a bike and allure of some of the best MTB in Australia was strong. Set up camp down by a lovely fast flowing river.
Then hopped back on the bike to head 5kms out of town as a small lake by the road was the only place with mobile service, and I needed to let my girlfriend know how knackered and elated I was.
Back to town, pizza at the one non-dodgy looking establishment which happened to serve my favourite beer (Moo Brew Pale). Then risked a shower with the potential killers. Happy to say that I was not murdered, and it turned out they were very lovely. The daughter was 60 years old and the dad in his mid 80's, which wouldn't have been shocking except they'd both been mountain biking all day like a pair of heroes. Talked to them for a good hour or so then retreated to the tent for a very cold night owing to my sleeping bag having farted a large amount of its down out and the zip not working, thus spilling me out like a badly packed kebab.
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Day 6
Turns out sleeping by a raging torrent in the freezing cold makes you want to piss a lot in the night.
Trail mix makes a great addition to otherwise bland porridge, between you and I.
Went for a bit of a morning pedal as the clouds still swirled around the hills.
Lost in the majesty of the mountains I didn't even notice that the Wolverine had changed somehow overnight. In fact it seemed like the only familiar part about it was the pedals.
"Ohhhh shit son, it's fucking on now!" - my hype man would have shouted, if I had one.
Booked on the two shuttles to ride both of the new lengthy trails which haven't long been connected, Blue Tier and Atlas, both of which are covered in those Flow articles in the last part. Vertigo have some pretty sweet hire bikes and offered me a normal Stumpy or a 27.5+ which happened to be in my preferred ALL BLACK URTHANG colourway. Whipped the ATACS off Wolverine and left him to make friends with all of the suspension softboys.
Blue tier first, and the shuttle takes you right back the way I'd entered the town (oo err), back up the bleak as fuck mountain of death which was now looking lovely, all bathed in sunshine.
The driver gave a run down of the trail which was 18km's of undulating, erection inducing trails, which had just been groomed fully by the trailmonkeys and had been turbo charged by the rain which had sexed it up (paraphrased), but explained that there's a really nice hikeable vantage point about ten minutes from the trail head. I let the other clowns head off into the forest and went for the photo opportunity.
Then back down to the new black beauty I went, strapped my tits on tight and wheeled into the set of Lord of the Rings.
Straight up forestry porn, fern filled gullies, grippy magic dirt, slabs of granite the size of yer house, and uncannily well-constructed flowgasms abound. It's like being on a roller-coaster through the most amazing forest landscape you've ever seen, except with optional gaps and doubles to throw your hire bike at. A playground for plus sized tyres and a theatre of whooping YEWWWWWWWW... You're simultaneously feeling like a stone cold pro ripping trough the mountain, and stopping to gape at the nature of it all. Safe to say I had one of the most enjoyable few hours on a bike I've ever experienced, and there was more to come after popping out in Weldborough (at the very same pub I'd luncheoned at previously), for pints and chippies.
More frontier-y buildings next to the pub.
Two pints of IPA and a toasted sandwich brought carb-levels up to cruical, which was good because Atlas was next and it had a bit more climbing than the last trail (which was very little). I felt a bit apprehensive about riding anything after Blue Tier, as if everything would just be a letdown, but no. Atlas starts off a little gravelly, and you pass through a range of different landscapes the further you drop down the mountain, from dusty passes and back into rich foliage. The granite littering the landscape has much more of a part to play in the trail construction with this one making it more technical and absolutely fucking L I T fam (admin please delete if used inappropriately). Time for some more suggestive shots of a mountain bike:
It's the sort of trail that had me riiiight on that upper limit of ability, without crashing horribly and ruining the onward journey. It's just so fucking fast and enjoyable, and changes at every berm (which you're glued to like a monorail). Foot out, SCHEWWWWWWWW, thank you very fucking much what's next. You're basically starring in your own Pepsi advert but with more screeching.
I'd bump into a few of the other shuttle advocates here and there, but the rest was good ol' one on one time with the trails. I rolled back into town just as I was reaching that sketchy point where another ten minutes could mean ripping it a bit too hard and shitting it. Back to Vertigo, to pick up the Wolverine and I headed back to pack up my tent. No supplies or phone service meant then was a good time to get going, so I rolled in a dazed state to Branxholm about 12kms up the road. There was a store there, and a hotel I was told might have a bed. This turned out to be half true, as the legend offered me his 'study' with a single bed where his kids stay when visiting and I literally could not have been happier with it.
N.B. Not sure if it was clear in the above, but I had a really enjoyable time mountain biking in Derby.
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I know I haven't yet finished with Tasmania, but here are some pictures of the weekend's Gippsland adventure because those pictures went up first.
Four days in Gippsland, starting out straight from work with a 2PM train to Drouin. One mate on a 6.5KG Canyon Ultimate FLXGEPXLP Super Ultimatium (with my restrap rear pack), and another mate on a 200 dollar Samson with a giant firefighter's backpack full to the brim with Lord knows
what.Off the train at Drouin, which is a full-blown shit hole, and all of us received an immediate dose of abuse so we got out of town as fast as we could and started to head South from Warragul as I'd pinpointed a road called Grand Ridge Road (big talk), at which point Gippsland started it's relentless delivery of rolling picturesque excellency.
A slow 15kms in we take a turn east to the start of the Grand Ridge Road, which is accompanied by a big tourist friendly sign announcing it's name, which would usually be overkill for a road, except this one was fully deserving of it.
We started losing the sun as we reached the top, at which point the whole thing just undulates up and down through pines, firs, farmland, and a giant beaming golden-ass star illuminating the whole thing.
Thankfully I'd gotten the old Supernova mounted in time for the trip, because it got darker than dark within an hour in the hills and we still had a bunch of descending to go before our goal at the brewery called... The Grand Ridge Brewery. A road so good they named a brewery after it.
Obviously taking photos in the dark is for tossers, so I stopped doing it and focused on enjoying the smug satisfaction of lighting the way with a pedal-powered device. We descended for about 15 minutes then popped out in the valley at the foot of a big old drag up to the main road at the top which would lead s into Mirboo North to our eventual brewery stop. Now, I know what you people are all thinking, and yes you'll be pleased to know it WAS PARMA NIGHT AT THE BREWERY.
Not just a 15 dollar hunk of delicious chicken schnitzel with your choice of nonsense on top, but a free pot of beer to go with it. Dream end to a day's riding. We got a bit loose then went back out into the cold and dark to find a place to pitch our tents and settled on the rear of a wood mill by a nature strip so that we'd be undetected. Here it is in the morning:
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This thread is fab, your writing is excellent.
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Very kind as ever, everyone! I'd love to put something a bit more official together, just not sure quite how at this point.
@tallsam @russmeyer - I see what you mean about the MTB day pictures. The pictures still seem to be hosted on Imgur but not displaying here for some reason. I'll have a go at fixing it another day.
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Gippsland Day 2
We slept like heckin babies, all full of delicious chicken and beers and it was particularly exciting for me to test out my new Sea to Summit Spark SPII snooze bag in the wild. A full review of it can be found here:
I'd been sharing the tent with a honey ant, and it was sad to part ways but as it started to drizzle we hurried to pack away. Here he is saying his goodbyes.
It started to properly piss down as we finished packing the tents away so we retreated to the town's premier motorcycle themed cafe for custard and blueberry muffins and boiling hot lattes while watching Steve McQueen's On Any Sunday till the rain chilled out a bit.
Plenty more steep climbs and wet/cold descents awaited, and all the while our indomitable Mad Dog smiled away with a ruck sack full of bricks. I should add he'd had knee surgery six weeks prior, all of which amounts to a nick name well earned.
The fields are steep in Gippsland, and the cows fearless.
A few more downpours and the sun started to threaten the day with a cameo, so we stopped in a town which joined our intended rail trail for hot chips and gravy, lamb and mint sauce sammiches, chocolate milk and fried chicken (!?). Only the healthiest food will do for cycle touring.
Then it was onto the rail trail for the remainder of our meander to Fish Creek, and a nights sleep at Mad Dog's very own farm house. Victoria has a massive network of rail trails, all of which were laid, used, torn up and appropriated for leisure use - all since Australia was settled by force. This can make for some lovely riding, when factored into a wider trip. Today it was fine white gravel straightlining through farmland and green grass.
The trail leads directly into Fish Creek - a one pub town with more tiny shop galleries than actual shops and a giant, awesome art deco pub (more on that soon).
We passed straight through and out the other side to press onto Mad Dog's house, for a reunion with Elmore the dog.
A very cool slide-on, and an even cooler troopie.
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Every post gets me closer to moving to Australia, in part only to justify a gravely tourer for trips like this
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Looks dead I'm afraid
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Huge-Action Monsteur - Wolveurine 650B Toureur (Wolverine)
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@sensom
This is the kind of thread that makes me go in to my bedroom and start pulling out my camping gear from under the bed.
Looks lovely all of it :(